May The World Forgive Me
by Vanrei Hellionist
Summary: An old man approaches the steps to the lair above. He hopes for the best. He hopes this letter could change the fate of everyone and stop everything bad. Unknown to the man, that's not what Angra had in mind during the night of the festival.


**A/N:** Completed under 2 hours or so. I was feeling bored and so I made this little series. Thanks to anyone who read and reviewed. Now enjoy.

_I should have died in that fire._

_I felt the signs resting in my mind. Lost of hearing, lost of sight, lost of touch and lost of soul, but no, it was just a trick in my mind. Those final events never happened to me, as I was slated in a deep unconscious womb, where I was praised in the cradle of sleep._

_For those two long months, I forgot that sense of tardiness, that sense of dreadfulness, that sense of laziness and all other bad habits I used to be. I only felt peace and well-being._

_But I couldn't stay in that state, not for long. The day I died was the forthcoming of the day of how I lived again, and this time, I'll make it for better._

_May the world forgive me._

The letter ended there. The piece of crumpled paper filled with food stains gave no delight to the reader.

"What kind of emotional garbage is this?" laughed Angra.

With the prisoner set, he was nailed to the board and was ready for launch. Unlike other prisoners, his face did not show any signs of fear. His burnt face gave out tears that symbolized nothing, it was merely for the enjoyment and teasing of Angra, because Angra liked it when prisoners gave up just before their death.

Angra signaled, his brown eyes glowed with the melancholic evil that dwelled inside him. He smiled in delight as he saw the ugly old man trying to muster up his strength to mutter.

"You will not…be forgiven…" cried the old man with a stressed tone to show his dying frame, weak, frail and smeared with his own blood.

The man collapsed in exhaustion on the board as his expressionless face and holes for eyes gave the guards between him an odd sense of fear. Angra however, was not bothered by the man's disfigured look.

And with a quick swipe, the guards shouted. It was a siren call for launching the prisoners. It was a bloody festival in which all prisoners die, a festival which gave all of Angra's soldiers the opportunity to do a live blitzkrieg in the form of entertainment.

The first prisoner was loose, he was launched into midair. The archers had been training for this special occasion on the line of fire, in which they propel their arrows to the near-death prisoner.

As the unfortunate soul saw his life flashed before his eyes, he was bombarded with a dark cloud of arrows coming from the ground-arrested archers. The archers watched in awe as their arrows that fought against gravity slowly came close to the target.

Then, a death crackle was heard. The sadistic archers roared mad in joy as their act of inhumanity was successful. Angra smiled at the falling board of wood filled with bloody arrows.

Next the second prisoner was set for deployment.

"You can't do this man!" shouted madly the nailed Dragon Knight as he tried to break free and live on.

But, even the toughest of men can't rebel against the large army of Angra, as their numbers overpowered the whole people on Victoria Island by 60 to 1. The army of Angra was definitely huge, but there were still forces that were holding him back from total domination. This little problem, however, will be dealt sometime soon as Angra thought of a plan that would shake the whole world.

But for now, it's just happy time for him. The prisoner gave a cracked growl as he's launched mercilessly into the air. As usual, the prisoners gave a cliché "NO" before their time of death.

Soon, the voice became softer as the second company started to ready their dance of death. This time, the launched soul was safe from the mindless arrows of archers, but another blitz crew was there to replace the work of archers, and these companies were the sinister thieves.

The prisoner landed on the foreign land made of rocky terrain. The impact was hard, but he was still alive, but he wasn't too happy, he was still cautious. It looked as if he was expecting something else with his eyes bulged, scouting the area for anything that was to happen.

He breathed in long and hard. His battle-stricken body was not ready to rot yet. In the end, he had only one thing to do. Escape. The pain that came after was unbearable.

His hands were bloody as foreign holes took place in his hands. He can wield a spear no more as he cried at his inauspicious luck. Suddenly, without warning, dark shadows began to shroud around him. He did not see this coming, but sooner or later this would have to happen.

The anonymous figures shrieked and startled the fallen warrior. They threw up their weapons in the air. The Dragon Knight saw it and gave one more final, long and stretched "NO" and then, it was the end of him.

The final prisoner to be released up high was there, right in front of Angra's throne, tainting the red carpet with dying blood. The guards were ready to launch as the crowd more than 50 feet below cheered like in a maniac-like fashion, to release the prisoner for the warriors to feed on.

"No." shouted Angra in an unmoved voice.

The crowd was startled and silenced. Questions were raised as they asked what made Angra changed his mind. Some of them shouted wanting their piece of the prisoner while some discussed among themselves whether Angra had gone soft.

"This man came to me, with no weapon in hand, hoping that I would stop the war and gave me his stupid letter."

The crowd down below laughed like hyenas as their heads thought of the stupidity of the old man, now nailed to a board. The voices grew wilder as Angra supported them by laughing as well, at the same time poking the prisoner with his staff.

"You know what? This man does not deserve to be killed by the warriors, he deserves a fight to the death! A death brought upon by your leader, General Angra!" shouted Angra madly as his bloody frenzy and signs of the more macabre-filled Angra was becoming imminent.

The crowd cheered more wildly than ever as Angra signaled the guards to throw the nailed man onto the ground below. The guards respected their orders as the board was launched and hit the ground in a smashing fashion.

The splinters filled the old man's fragile frame as he was woken up from his unconscious state. He hoped for a peaceful death right there, but Angra wasn't going to let any prisoner that day die a peaceful death, it was time for Angra to start his demonstration of gruesomeness.

Angra concentrated his mana for a more effort-filled Teleport as the sparks of blue magic shredded a piece of his throne. In a second, rushed air was released which knock-backed his guards to the oblivion below, thinking what had they done to deserve this; another cruel act done by the heartlessness of their conquering general.

Now at the bottom, Angra readied his staff with the starting routine of being engulfed by a small red glow. His staff, jet black and stained with innocent blood impressed some warriors as a magician rarely gets their staff stained with the blood of any kind. But of course, this was their general afterall, the cold man who conquered Orbis under 12 weeks, surely some blood could have made onto his staff.

The surreal glow intensified little by little as the lightly-clothed general forced the man to stand up using his magic. A haze of toxic came to be deployed as the dying prisoner was badly injured, dying and poisoned. Speeding up the process didn't make the dying man happy, as he stood up.

This awed the army as much as how Angra wowed the army with his superior ruling, the ability for the man to stand up after all that suffering was seen as incredible. More faces became dumbfounded as the old man went into an easily-abused fighting position. It was now known he was a pirate, and a tough one too.

He was able to move his arms freely as he did some basic punches to be prepared for his final battle. The old man gave no mercy to his broken body as he did a somersault. The general sees this man as a small obstacle. In a flash, more poisonous clouds engulfed the man as he puked out what is left of him.

Angra had the intention of giving this man a slow and painful death, but he had no time as the world needed to be conquered, and this pirate was clearly a waste of his time. Angra teleported into the shroud as it dispersed around him.

Angra hit the man hard with his staff as he coughed out his last ounces of blood. The man, even with an extraordinary performance of undying will, was now completely helpless to Angra's cheap stab.

The old man tried to mutter, but he was quickly stopped by a hard hit to the back. Now, back in his dying position, he slung his arm to his back and did a quick and painful Flash Fist. This disintegrated Angra's left leg, instantly.

Unable to be dealt with the pain Angra shouted in a dark, monster-like voice. His scream gave his whole army that feeling of superior dread that they never felt before. He tried to maintain his balance as a part of his foot was gone by the quick jab of the nearly-dead prisoner.

"Damn you filth!" shouted Angra as he raised the weak man to head level. His eyes filled with unimagined rage as he materialized a very dark, powerful and diluted fire ball on one of his hands.

Angra then squished the fire ball into his palm, making the fire engulf his right fist. With the fury equivalent to a conquering general, he gave the man one final blow to the face. The blow hit hard as the pressure from the blow made the corpse flew away into the crowd of soldiers.

The flame spread quickly onto the corpse as the soldiers gulped and were now more bedazzled by the genuine power of Angra. The soldiers backed as the flames erupted the corpse into a fiery oblivion.

It was a sad end for the old man, but with the death of the final prisoner, Angra lifted his staff into the air, spontaneously making the soldiers wild. His victory in the handicapped match, even with less of a foot in the end, made him stood there proudly, like the general he is.

"Time to conquer, my army! This world needs a new order right now! I say men, take your weapon and fight! Charge to Ellinia!" shouted General Angra, general of the army unsung army of Orbis.

The hounds were now unleashed, the stomping of flesh-craving soldiers boomed the ground with their horrible feet smeared with the blood of dead men. The army charged as they moved through the ground in all wondrous glory, but there was a spark of misfortune about to occur, and Angra never saw this coming.

The army went in just as the full moon dawned upon their faces. On a face of a soldier, the light shone his distinguished face, but soon, the last color he saw was a flaming red which came from an unknown fire.

It was not only him, other marching soldiers caught on fire too as their attire were licked by this cheeky fire. Soon, the fire nearly spread to everyone as the sound of horrible men dying in a full flame gave horror to Angra.

His whole battalion was going down in an unfortunate tragedy. He was not going to give up, not now. He teleported across the main network of the strings of fire.

He was defending his hard-earned work as he tried to repel the fire away using his own magic, but the attempt was quickly overthrown by the massive blaze that took the army by surprise. This might be the end of his work, even the Ice and Lightning mages can't repel the fiery intruder.

He could only do one thing. Get out and run.


End file.
